Remember the story. The turtle didn’t run, didn’t jump, but kept moving forward, always with friends.
Another comm ping. Bones’ voice, low and relieved, came through. “Dollface?”
I brushed my comms unit. “I’m here,” I murmured even as I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My knees ached from staying kneeling, holding the kids, keeping them calm.“Just telling the kids a story.” I brushed the comms again before I continued. “Veamos la luz,”I whispered to them, translating it softly.“Así como la tortuga y el perro… la luz siempre vuelve.”
Let’s see the light. Just like the turtle and the dog… the light always comes back.
“That’s our girl,” Bones murmured and my heart did a fistbump to my ribs. They were okay.
I kept repeating that inside.
They were okay.
Outside, the distant rumble of tires on asphalt and shouted orders carried through the steel walls. The kids shifted, sensing the tension lifting, if only slightly. Goblin thumped his tail and nuzzled the littlest boy. I pressed a soft kiss to Nico’s temple.“Ya casi estamos,” I murmured.“Casi seguros.”
We’re almost there. Almost safe.
And even as the night pressed against the warehouse walls, even as the echo of combat faded into the distance, I kept telling the story, slow and soft, letting it thread courage through the room. Bones, Voodoo, Legend—they’d cleared the worst, and wewere going to make it out. Because like the turtle, sometimes courage is just moving forward with friends beside you.
It took another hour. An hour of whispered stories, careful translations, and listening through the comm as Bones and the others made sure the last pockets of threat were neutralized. My legs ached from kneeling, my arms from holding the children close, but I didn’t dare move until I had confirmation.
Then, finally, the voices I’d been waiting for—lively, reassuring, Spanish-accented—cut through the static.
“Grace,” Bones said, low and steady, “we’re here.”
I froze for a heartbeat, heart hammering. Then, careful not to disturb the kids more than necessary, I rose, then moved over to the door and slid the lock back. It clicked open—a small sound, but to me it felt like the first breath of freedom. I pressed my ear to the crack for a moment, listening, before letting the door swing wide.
There was Bones, flanked by two others I didn’t recognize. One of them was a medic, the other a man Bones introduced simply as a “friend.” Both spoke in Spanish, addressing the kids with a calm authority that immediately made them relax.
“You can trust them,” Bones said softly, meeting my eyes. Red marks that I knew would turn into bruises shadowed his face, and his lower lip was cut. If he’d been bleeding, he’d cleaned it up.
AB’s voice followed over the comm, echoing the same reassurance. “They’ll take care of the kids. You’ve done your job. Now let them do theirs.”
I hesitated. My hands lingered on Nico’s shoulders, stroking the youngest boy’s hair. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew they were safe. I gave the smallest nod I could manage and began transferring the children, one by one, into the arms of those who could keep them calm, fed, and protected. The relief in theireyes mirrored my own, even as my chest ached at the thought of letting them go.
Once the last of the kids were safely settled into the arms of Bones’ medic and his friend, I finally let myself breathe all the way through.
Bones’ arms wrapped around me again, tighter this time, grounding me as though he could absorb the weight that was crushing down on me. My cheek rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I let my shoulders relax.
“We did it,” I whispered, voice trembling, though the words weren’t for anyone but me.
“You did it,” Bones corrected gently, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You kept them alive. You were brave.”
It was still a we, but I was far too tired to argue with him right now. So, I just let the exhaustion wash over me, mingling with relief and grief, with hope. We hadn’t found Amorette yet, but in this small victory, I felt her presence more vividly than ever. Saving these people, protecting the children… this was the work she would have done.
For the first time in hours, I closed my eyes, letting myself sink completely into the safety Bones offered. The warehouse, the night, the distant sounds of evacuation—all of it could wait. Right now, we were alive, we were together, and for the first time in a long while, that was enough.
I breathed him in then whispered, “Thank you.” He came back. Just like I’d asked. He tightened his hold, and for a long, perfect moment, the world shrank to just us.
“So…” AB said into the quiet over the comms. “What are we doing for food? Cause I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”
Chapter
Twenty
GRACE
We were in New Jersey. Quiet. Brick townhouse, narrow street, the kind of place that could almost pass for normal if you squinted hard enough.
